


Hope is the highest magic

by carolinka



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Bodyswap, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 03:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4247292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinka/pseuds/carolinka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco and Mario switch bodies for a day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope is the highest magic

Even though Marco loves his flat quite much, there are some disadvantages. Firstly, the woman lives downstairs likes cooking more than necessary, to a point that there’s always food smell filling his house. He admits that sometimes the smell is appetizing but not when it’s two o’clock in the morning and he’s trying to sleep. Secondly, it has night clubs not too far away. Some days he has to fight the urge to go there, dance until his shirt is wet as if it was washed and drink with people he doesn’t know. And also some days, when he feels like a eighty year old grandpa, the urge becomes to call the police so they can identify underage people there and they shut the fuck up. Lastly, in the mornings sun shines through his window to wake him up which he definitely doesn't appreciate.

This is why Marco is feeling quite uneasy because there is no sun to irritate him. It’s quite unusual, he rarely falls asleep in another rooms of his house as he is a man of habit. The bed is different too, it’s softer than usual and sheets somehow looks lighter through his closed eyelids and there are too much pillows for him to be comfortable. he decides he is still too sleepy and his waking up hours hasn’t arrived yet, so he goes on laying down on his unfamiliar bed.

He’s almost asleep again smelling his pillow when alarm goes off loudly. He jumps out of bed in a shock to turn it off or it’s going to blow his ears. He finds his phone with his eyes half closed and sighs in relief when he manages to silence it.

Then he opens his eyes to a place he knows (hardly). Which doesn’t make sense (at all). He wonders if this is a some kind of a sick joke but he doesn’t see how anyone can carry him to all the way to Munich without him knowing when there’s not a sign of a drunken night as he can easily open his eyes.

That’s when he notices his arms.

They are hairy. With dark hair he never possessed.

His hands go up to examine his face and he touches his cheeks. These are not his cheeks. He doesn’t have puffy cheeks, he never had. He doesn’t need to see his face to be sure. He knows these hands, these feet, these tanned arms.

He still runs towards the mirror because this makes no sense and he has to be out of his mind to be experiencing this. But there is not a chance he is mistaken because it’s Mario’s face looking back at him, expression awkward, because this is actually his expression.

We can feel anxiety and panic building inside of him because why is he in his ex boyfriend’s body? (No pun intended) He tries to take few deep breaths to calm himself down but this is not a football match where he is tackled and he’s trying to calm himself down to not punch the git.

The phone buzzes at that point and he checks the message hoping it is Mario (or Marco). It’s not.

It’s “Main beatchh<3:*” asking if he should pick him up. Although he has a few guesses who might that be, he decides to worry about that later. He answers with a plain “Thank you, I’ll come myself today.” It probably sounds cold but his feeling for these particular people isn't very positive either.

He has to figure it out where Mario is first. Or his soul. Whatever that is.

***

Mario sleeps better than he did for a long time. He can't quite his finger on it but when he is surrounded with the smell of Marco's shampoo, perfume and his own natural scent, he thinks it might be because they haven't been sleeping together for some time. He finds it ridiculous, that they would ever waste a chance to cuddle and make out in the bed before sleeping. The only thing to make this sleeping adventure better would be Marco coming behind him to wrap his arms around his torso.

After a while, sunshine illuminates his face. He smiles broadly, he always sleeps on the side which gets the sun earlier so Marco can enjoy his sleep a little longer. And probably that Marco likes to see his face clearly before the sun makes him get out the bed with few selected curses.

Oh well, looks like Marco is preparing breakfast. Or he has gone to buy some because there is no smell of eggs or bacon and no sounds coming from kitchen.

He gets out the bed with his grumbling stomach. Marco better be back soon. He wants to kiss his stupid face and then eat like an animal. But he has to brush his teeth first, he knows Marco's feeling about morning breath and he can't blame him. At least they weren't shy to talk about this.

He just hopes there is no orange juice for breakfast, that and toothpaste make a horrible match.

Then everything comes to him. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be sleeping in Marco's bed, especially if he is not here to give his permission and he shouldn't be in Dortmund. He has a training in less than an hour and he doesn't remember giving his coach any heads up that he won't be there. There is no doubt that he wouldn't find "I'll be crashing in Marco's flat" enough anyway.

Marco's phone rings, the same song as two years ago and it warms his heart despite himself. It says Mario and he frowns, Marco must have taken his phone. Two iPhones in one house usually leads to trouble. He should've gotten himself a phone case. He blushes that Marco guessed his password but he gets the call.

"Hello." he says but only to freak out as soon as words leave his mouth. "Marco what the fuck? Why do I sound like you?" he shouts.

"Mario calm down, okay? I'm going crazy here too. Let's not make this harder for each other." he says, with a forces calm tone. With his voice.

"I don't understand." he whines, as he runs to the mirror to look at his face. Or technically Marco's.

"Neither do I. Fuck Mario. Someone called main bitch texted you to pick you up and I told I'll come myself."

"That's David. Shit. What do we do?" he asks desperately.

"I don't know. Play cool? Don't go to practice? Tell someone?"

"No!" he protests immediately. "Tell someone? They'll think we are crazy. And maybe we are, they will probably think we are playing with them. And I...or you, whatever, have to go to practice. I'm not in best terms with Pep. Just go, okay?"

"Fine, fine. Send me to the wolves." he tries to say without malice but he fails.

Mario tries not to take offense but it's hard because normally they don't talk about Dortmund that much and Munich, not at all.

"Okay, I know about your feelings for them but for my sake, just do it." he pleads unnecessarily because he already knows Marco won't put him in a hard place but he guesses he looks for fight.

"Trust me, you really don't know how strong my feelings about them Mario." he snaps and cuts Mario before he can start. "I'll go nevertheless."

Mario counts to ten before answering. "Good. What do want me to do?"

"Go to practice. Don't talk anything specific with Auba. If he invites you somewhere, say no. That would be all."

"I won't talk anything specific with Auba. That is all?" he says coldly, and without reason he admits.

"Yes.” His voice is cutting. “You shouldn't have a hard time finding for things. And you basically know everyone." Marco says. "You have to tell me where your keys though."

He ignores how harsh Marco sounds and finds that Marco is right, it seemed like nothing has changed since this was practically his flat too.

"My keys... They must be in my pocket. And tonight I had a date with Ann. Cancel it after practice, will you? Tell her your knees are aching or something." he babbles. 

The silence between them stretches. "I'll do." Marco says silently.

“Let’s keep in touch, eh? What’s the password by the way?”

“Duh, 1909 of course.” Marco says and ends the call. Mario stares at the phone dumbly for a second before he tosses it aside and goes to bathroom to take a piss. It’s going to be damn awkward.

***

He leaves the car cautiously, eyeing around if there is anyone to jump on him. He put the phone on the silent before coming here, so he can tell them he didn’t hear. He just hopes he is not late.

He starts walking to training centre. It is unnaturally silent, not like he is used to at Dortmund. He wonders if it is Pep or if Bayern was always this unnerving. Some guy from staff greets him with a hello but his gaze lingers on him curiously and Marco checks his outfit if there is something BVB related.

He understands the meaning of his gaze when he enters the changing room. There is no one. He is early.

He really should’ve asked Mario.

He gets out Mario’s phone and texts him. “I’m fucking early. Why didn’t you tell me you start late?” Of course he doesn’t get a reply because they must have already started. He decides to go and start jogging, as having to talk with someone is bound to lead trouble today.

He is not as quick as he ought to be obviously because as he ties his shoes, Lahm comes in. He is lucky it is someone he knows because he can’t quite imagine himself talking with Thiago or David when no one is around to cover for him involuntarily.

(He remembers Thiago is injuried and at least he won’t have to face him. He feels just a little bit guilty that he used to damn him to hell every time he saw his face last year. He really shouldn’t have laid his hands on Mario but he knows it doesn’t matter anyway. Mario made his choice long before Thiago was groping Mario’s ass.)

“Good morning.” he says rather stiffly. He can’t look Lahm in the eye, scared that something might give away his true identity but he refuses to think about the impossibility of the situation himself at the time.

Lahm raises his eyebrows and Marco thinks he look weirder than usual but he feels thankful as he only greets him back and doesn’t ask him any questions.

“I’ll just go and run a lap.” he gestures with his hands vaguely at the direction of the door. Lahm looks amused this time, “You don’t have enough time. Everyone will be here soon.”

And of course he is right because three people come in at that moment, Manuel clapping him on the back, Bastian slapping him at the back of his head and Robert dropping on his ass to sit next to him. “Why are you up early?”

Mario is always late. He should’ve been late. He clears his throat, searching his mind for the least suspicious answers. He settles for the truth. “Marco woke me up. Kind of.” It feels weird talking about himself in third person.

“I’m not going to ask if you had phone sex.”

He feels his head go fuzzy and he is sure if he was in his own body his face would be red the second Lewy started talking but Mario has always been more lucky with this. “I have a girlfriend. Do I really need to remind you?”

Robert snorts, totally ungraceful. “Like it has ever stopped you.”

He remains silent for a while, for different reasons than Robert thinks. Robert takes his silence as a permission to go on. “Have you talked to him?”

“About what?” he asks before he can stop himself. He wants to slap himself into oblivion because obviously real Mario asking this would anger Robert. And it did. “You are wasting both of your times. You are going to feel really for yourself when he finds someone who cares for him more than you do." he says and shots him one last angry glare before he leaves his side.

He tries to look offended on Mario’s side but at the same time he feels his heart tighten because this is what he is afraid of too. That someday in the future he will be tired of waiting for Mario to fix his mistakes and he will look for comfort in someone else’s arms.

Just when he thinks this day couldn't go any harder, David Alaba fills the space Robert just left. "Why are you early?"

Apparently, Mario's punctuality hasn't improved over these two years. 

He gives the same answer. "Marco woke me up."

Alaba's eyebrows flies up and e whistles with a suggestive glint to his eyes. "How's the lover boy?"

He tries not to flinch at his given name. He gives Alaba a long, sharp look. "He would kill you if you heard you call him that." 

"Only if he can take his eyes off of you."

Marco blushes furiously this time because since they broke up he tried his best not to look as if he was still in love with Mario. He obviously failed. 

Alaba continues talking. "Have you talked to him by the way?" 

He doesn't react on instinct this time. "No. As soon as possible."

"Well, you better hurry if you don't want to lose your man, right?"

Marco thinks, I might even like this guy someday.

***

Mario hurries to the training ground, almost running at his top speed to not to be late. He sees few people he distinctly remembers from his time at the club, Dortmund has always been more stable than other clubs and that doesn't seem to change.

He pushes the door to changing room too forcefully, nearly knocking down Mats who was near it. "Slow down, Marco. Kloppo won't have your head just because you are late one day. God knows he has known worse." Mats chats easily, with his easy smile thanks his fucking easy relationship with Marco which he doesn't have anymore. 

And he talks about him.

He is also aware of the fact that this might be his best shot at learning if he has a chance left with Marco.

"So I talked to him this morning." He says, not looking Mats in the eye in case he has to look away too quickly.

"Yeah? I thought you didn't talked that much lately."

"Oh we don't." Mario says, forcing causality. "But he tries to communicate more than before. He might try to say something soon."

Mats gives him a funny look. "You don't usually say stuff like that. Has something happened to make you confident about this?"

Marco wasn't sure about his motivations. Mario isn't surprised because Marco has always needed someone to hold a banner saying "I love you, fuck me until we are out out stock?" to believe he was wanted.

"Nothing really to be honest. I might even be making a big deal out of his words."

Mats grabs his elbow suddenly. "Just don't get yourself into this too deeply alright? We saw what he is capable of and I don't want to see you hurt because of him again. This time even you won't be able to stop me." he says brows knitted together, his eyes more serious than he has ever seen.

He just nods dumbly, following him to the practice.

And he thought Mats was the calm one in the team because he was the one who smoothed things out between Marco and Mario. That he understood his situation better than anyone even if he didn't approve of it. 

The training goes smoothly, thanks to Kloppo who is making the whole team work their ass off to get a better situation in the league. "Auba" doesn't blink as he comes next to him to be paired and he hugs Mario, who involuntarily tenses for a moment before he recalls he is supposed to be really good friend with this guy. He seems to be in his own thoughts though and he doesn't talk too much but still manages to look happy.

Locker rooms after the practice, holds place for some drama. Kevin slaps him on the back. "I see you are still talking with the shitface."

Mario tenses because even though he knows Kevin is hot headed and scurrilous, it's obvious that he actually means what he says. "We are still friends." he tries to says composedly. 

"He isn't worth it. You practically have thousands of hot gay men you can nail and ninety nine percent of them is more looking than the traitor."

It feels like only yesterday when Kevin and Nuri would do turns to pick him and take him here. 

"He is still my friend." he can only say, weakly. 

Kevin gives him a pitying look. "He's using you. You deserve so much better than a disloyal bitch."

***

"Do you want to come to my place?" Alaba asks placing a hand on his shoulder. "You seem off today, we gotta cheer you up." 

Mario is lucky to have such friends, Marco admits but he also had amazing friends back at Dortmund too. He isn't going to generously feel nice towards this people.

He gives some half assed excuse and Alaba is not satisfied with his answer but he must think he should let go because he grins at him, telling he can't escape him tomorrow.

Obviously he is allowed to mope for one day. Whatever this madness is, he just hopes it will end soon and he doesn't have to accept his offer tomorrow.

He heads for the showers, trying not to talk people much. It is not hard as almost everyone is already in the showers. He is already naked besides his boxer and he gets rid of it too when he gets in himself. 

He almost thinks he is hallucinating, which would be an amazing explanation to this crazy day but is it possible that Mario kept his boxers? 

He certainly did if Marco didn't go fully crazy. 

The thought that Mario wore this when he was sleeping, training, eating sends a jolt through his stomach and chest. Not to his surprise, his cock, Mario's cock responds to this as well, considering it is not a person of his own. He determinedly ignores the way his cock gets hard and it aches. He won't be that creep who wanks when he is in his boyfriend's body. (If there is a custom for that.)

Ex boyfriend, he reminds himself.

***  
He has two messages from Marco, along with some which are definitely not urgent at the moment.

The first one is expectable and he even feels good to know that today Pep couldn't complain about his late arrivals. 

The second one on the other hand, is something he wished he could avoid.

"Boxers are the only thing that belong to me in Munich."

He hates the double meaning in this words but doesn't press the subject, instead he immediately calls Marco. Texting is too slow to cover today's events.

Marco doesn't wait to take a breath to start talking. "Do you have anything to say to me?" It looks like he has been waiting for his call. And hearing his own voice through phone is weird as fuck.

"I see you have talked to Lewy." he says.

"And Alaba. And practically every one on your team, who loves to tease you about me."

"Well, is it surprising? We were together, we were and hopefully still are best friends and I practically whined about your every single day. What's surprising is how everyone reacts when my name enters the conversation."

His voice's volume increases. "What did you expect Mario? That Kevin would be all understanding and nice? You know he still despises you. Mats is still wary about you and can't bring himself to forgive you, mostly because of me. And I am still fucking hurt that you chose to change your club when we could've been together, brilliantly at that and you've also chosen to have a girlfriend who is a great cover for your sexuality than to try harder to be with me." Marco yells. "Really Mario? What the fuck did you expect?" 

"I didn't expect you to forget about me this easily." he says quietly, knowing he makes no sense.

"Forget about you? Is this what you get from this whole time we were apart? Or is it just a test to see how much I care?"

"No, of course not. What I told you when I left Dortmund still stands. I did for my career and I tried to be a professional but apparently it wasn't enough for you."

"Of course it fucking wasn't. Would you be satisfied with what you told me if our roles were reversed?" Marco yells with the voice of Mario.

"Then you should have told me!"

"Then you should have showed some empathy and see this is not something you happily accept. Besides the club, you left me Mario. You left me for other person. Even if I can set aside that you are a traitor, you also left me, for that girlfriend of yours."

Mario purportedly ignores 'traitor'. "Ann was a beard. You knew that, you were the one to break things up."

"Are you really blaming me?" Marco asks, disbelieving. 

"I am not blaming anyone!" Mario cries out. "I'm just saying I never wanted to part with you."

"But you knew I wouldn't stay with you when you had a beard. at least I hope you knew me that well."

"I wished you could out that aside." he says slowly, voice dripping with sadness and Marco has hard time to remember this was exactly how he sounded when this events occurred two fucking years ago. And this is how long Mario took to coming close to acknowledging he was so wrong. 

Mario's -Marco's- voice trembles. "I was going to break up with Ann today. Then I would tell you about it and hope you would take me back. Is it too late Marco?"

Marco's heart trembles in his chest and he is afraid it might try to fly inside his body. "It is going to be soon."

"I'll make it right, okay?" Mario promises, breath heavy. 

"If this madness ends soon."

"Fuck, yes, you are right." Mario sounds scandalized, and Marco decides he never should use that voice tone if he gets his body back because it sounds rather ridiculous.

They talk and talk and talk, hearing their own voices with each other's words, resentments not forgotten but finally out in the open to fix. They remember why once they forgot everyone around them, why they only had eyes for each other, why they could never let go. 

"We should have had sex today." Mario states. Marco laughs, a real laugh, sound coming right from his chest. "Kinky. I got a boner today if it's going to satisfy you."

Mario sits up. "Had a wank?" he asks enthusiastically. 

Marco laughs again and one of his hands go to pinch his cheek, fat and smooth for now. "No, I'm not a creep."

"Well, I'm being a creep right now. Feel free to be one too." Mario says and the image his mind offers almost makes him moan before he can even touch himself. 

He doesn't understand this but at least there was something good coming out of it. A lot of good things.

***

The next morning, Marco wakes up with sun's warmth on his face. It feels right where he is, even when there is a person shaped blank next to him. At least he knows it is going to be okay, that it isn't far when he will be waking up next to Mario. 

He grabs his phone and the password is wrong. He goes for Mario's birthday and he is of course right. He laughs as he goes through his photos as instructed by Mario last night. A fond smile lightens his face before his phone rings.

"Good morning sunshine." Marco drawls. 

Mario snickers. "Despite how muh I enjoyed being you at the end, I prefer this. So I can see your face every damn second." he says mockingly but Marco hears the truth in it.

"I like being taller, so it's a win-win." he teases. 

"Shut up, I'm younger."

Marco hums just how annoys Mario. "I still don't understand how did that happen." 

"I hoped you would see the things from my point." Mario says, voice still heavy with sleep.

Marco thinks life can't go any better.


End file.
